


Four Seasons

by bb88



Category: Fragile: Sayonara Tsuki no Haikyo | Fragile Dreams: Farewell Ruins of the Moon
Genre: AU, M/M, Oneshot, mild romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-20
Updated: 2011-03-20
Packaged: 2017-10-17 04:09:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/172748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bb88/pseuds/bb88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Having Crow as a friend is probably worse than being bullied.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Four Seasons

 

 

            When Crow first met Seto, he left school for the day with a face covered in purple paint and a sore shoulder. At eight years old, Crow was a wiry and hyper child with glossy black hair (cut by himself of course) and shocking green eyes, filled with visions of invincibility and unstoppable power. The exuberant boy rallied his fellow students into terrorizing his teachers on a daily basis. One day after recess, the commotion of a lively class was hushed when the teacher introduced a small red-haired thing with a cautious face. The teacher stood up by the board, and while she talked, the unusually petite figure tried to shrink into nothing behind her somewhere. Crow’s eyes zeroed in on the uncomfortable child, who was seven and lived with his grandpa and would everyone please welcome _Seto_ , taking in the mop of red hair, the blue-ish eyes, the weird oversized clothing. Seto looked like…a girl. He began to scheme.

            Later, during art, Crow picked up his jar of purple paint and strode purposefully over to Seto’s desk. The entire class watched Crow, waiting to see what he was going to do. Seto looked up from his picture of a jellyfish a moment later, a question in his face before his eyes dropped down to rest on the paint in Crow’s hand. The teacher noticed the silence too late and was mid-lunge when Crow dumped the paint on Seto’s picture and hands. Seto was quiet for a long while, staring at his purple hands. Crow watched him curiously. The teacher, frozen, wondered why she had been cursed with the student from hell. The class held its breath, waiting for a show.

“Are you really a boy?” Seto scooted his chair back, holding his dripping hands up, and shoved them into Crow’s face. He then punched Crow’s shoulder (leaving a tiny purple fist mark on Crow’s shirt) and stomped out of the room. The teacher ran after him, grabbing Crow’s arm on the way and hissing at him to go to the office _now_. Crow watched the teacher leave without bothering to wipe his face off. His eyes were big. His classmates stared as a smile bloomed on his face, a rather strange sight with a face covered in paint.

 

            When Crow was thirteen and Seto was twelve, he broke his wrist. Crow was in the middle of running five miles to spite a teacher he had made a bet with when a flash of red caught his eye as he passed some bleachers. He slowed down and saw it was a head of red hair, belonging to a rather well hidden boy under the bleachers. He was pretty familiar with the kid in question, Seto, but he wouldn’t say they were friends. Yet. He made sure his steps made no noise as he ducked to examine Seto, who seemed to be napping. He was curled up in the space where the ground met the lowest bleacher. Crow wondered how he had even managed to see him. There was something shiny on Seto’s cheeks, and Crow realized they were wet. _Crybaby._ Honestly, Seto should be glad he had him to scare the bullies off, as he planned to go do in about two minutes. But…Crow reached out and trailed his fingers down Seto’s face. In about two seconds, Seto’s eyes snapped open and, by way of reflex, Crow stepped back, lost his balance, and fell, taking all his weight on his outstretched hand.For a few seconds, Crow just took in Seto’s face as he stared at him, before- _OW._ Crow screamed, Seto looked stunned, and five hours later, Crow had a nice cast on his arm.

            “I think I like someone,” he slurred to his dad as they drove home from the hospital.

            “I think you’re still under anesthesia,” his dad grumbled, not ready to deal with a drugged thirteen year old.

            "I think they broke my wrist…” Crow said dreamily, missing the disturbed glance his dad shot at him.

            The next day, Crow refused to stay home, and proudly showed off his cast to his classmates (despite the fact that the painkillers were nowhere near strong enough and _ow_ ). He bragged extra hard about the multiple shots when Seto came in with his lunch, but he left five minutes later. Crow watched him leave, making a note to make himself seem braver in the stories next time.

 

           When Crow was seventeen and Seto was sixteen, they tended to end up in the same study group (such a coincidence). The study groups started to mysteriously dissolve, and they had begun to simply study together. The study sessions would consist of two phases, the first lasting for about fifteen minutes, where Crow would talk rapidly about everything and nothing, not seeming to mind Seto’s silence. The second phase was when Crow would begin to simmer down, then just drop into outright staring at Seto, who would studiously ignore the gaze piercing through his book. Eventually, the “study” sessions themselves became more like “hang out wherever Crow rudely invites himself to and try to ignore whatever stupid thing he does” sessions.

  



           This crisp fall afternoon, Crow was messing around on some stones, leaping around like he had springs in his legs. Seto was idly following behind him, reading a comic. Crow kept sneaking glances at Seto- okay, well, not ‘sneaking’, per se, more like blatantly staring at him. He was thinking to himself that the gakuran uniform didn’t suit Seto at all.            

  



           “That uniform doesn’t suit you at all,” he announced. Seto looked up at him, eyebrows furrowing.

           “What?” Crow twirled to face him.

           “That uniform. Doesn’t. Suit. You. Mine looks way better. Maybe the girl uniform would be more fitting?” Seto tried to drill a hole in his face with his eyes, but gave up after a minute and went back to his comic.

           “If I wore a girl uniform, the girl I like wouldn’t like me,” he stated airily. Crow leaped to Seto’s side.

           “You like a girl?! What! Who! When!” Seto sighed and eyed Crow.

           “She’s in the class above us. She has silver hair. I think she’s cute.”

           “Are you going to confess to her?! _Are you going to kiss her?!_ ” Crow knew on good authority (his own) that Seto had never kissed anyone. Neither had he himself, but that didn’t matter.

           “M-maybe,” Seto mumbled, blushing furiously. Crow stared at the side of his face, then grabbed it and pulled it towards his own, lips colliding squarely with Seto’s.

Neither of them moved.

            Seto, eyes as large as dinner plates, stood stock-still, frozen as Crow pushed something roughly into his hands. Crow pulled away, and Seto shakily opened his hand to see what it was.

            “It’s a button. Because you give it to the person you like. And you’re my person, so…I stole your kiss before that silver-haired girl did. I’ve been waiting longer.” Then he pirouetted on a stone and jumped away, minus one button.

 

 

            The last time Crow allowed Seto to have any peace at all was when Seto was asleep during exam week, collapsed on top of his notes during a cram session at Crow’s apartment. Crow took in Seto’s sleeping face over the rim of his beer can, wondering if he should mess with him or not. The pens were scattered all over the table, so he totally could, but something stopped him. Crawling over to Seto, he leaned over him, checking to see how deep his sleep was. _After three days of no sleep_ … _pretty damn deep_. He pulled Seto up, then dragged him over to his bed. After artfully arranging all fifty-four kilograms underneath a thick blanket, he came to a decision. Seto was just not able to live without Crow. He got picked on, injured, and taken advantage of all the time. If he were with Crow, none of that would ever happen. Crow collapsed on top of Seto, who groaned at the sudden heavy weight.

            “What the- what are you doooingg?” Seto complained, gasping for breath.

            “Shut up, I’m using you as a mattress, since you’re on mine.”

            “Then let me leave!”

            “I _like_ you on my mattress.”

            “…” Crow liked how warm everything got when Seto blushed.

 

 

            When Seto was seven, some stupid kid poured paint on his hands.

            When Seto was twelve, the same stupid idiot broke his wrist for him.

            When Seto was sixteen, the _same_ mentally challenged fool stole his first kiss.

            When Seto was twenty, he moved in with that stupid kid.


End file.
